


laughter on the line

by dizzy



Series: byebye 20gayteen daily fic advent [8]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 12:43:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16913088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzy/pseuds/dizzy
Summary: Prompt:It's been raining for 3 days and Dan suddenly decides he wants to go outside. In the downpour. Phil refuses to let him go alone.





	laughter on the line

The whole city seems cloaked in clouds and drenched in wetness, raindrops that splatter violently against the window as a symphony of thunder rumbles in the sometimes not so distant distance. 

"Dan?" Phil says. 

He's not upstairs yet, but he will be soon. 

Dan thinks about moving. A normal person would get up and pretend they haven't been sat cross-legged in front of the balcony doors, smearing forehead grease on the glass where they've rested their head against it. 

But Dan's not normal and if Phil doesn't know that by now then it's too fucking late, isn't it? 

He's been in a weird mood all day. Phil probably knows that as well. 

"Yeah," Dan says, not a question but an acknowledgement of life and his current whereabouts. 

Phil half-jogs up the stairs. "What are you doing?" He asks, but doesn't wait for an answer. "I think I got the capture issue sorted." 

On another day, Dan might feel bad for leaving Phil to sort out technological woes while Dan sits around in his pants doing fuck-all. 

"The rain feels like it's in my head," he says, still staring out the glass. 

Phil walks past him without pause, into the kitchen. Dan listens to the tap running as Phil fills a glass with water. Same substance but so different from what's soaking through the world on the other side of the glass. One is filtered and fed through tubes, woven underground and up the pipes, delivered to them neatly at a small fee. 

The other is just - nature. Comes when it wants, stays for as long as it wants. 

The rain doesn't care that it's almost Christmas. The rain doesn't care that they were meant to go to a nice outdoor market tonight. The rain doesn't care that Dan's feeling twitchy inside and out and the only thing that seems to soothe the irrational urgency is sitting in this exact spot, watching it fall. 

Phil brings the glass of water to him and hands it down. "Drink," he says. 

Dan rolls his eyes as he raises the rim to his mouth. He chugs so fast it leaves his stomach sloshing. He pictures a waterfall inside his own body, rushing rapids in the pit of his intestines already frothy with acid. 

Gross, he thinks, with an admiration toward his own imagination born of immaturity. 

"I want to go outside," Dan says suddenly. "I'm gonna go outside." 

Phil doesn't take him seriously. "It's practically a flood out there."

"So?" Dan stands. Should he put clothes on? Yeah, probably so; he might get away with pants on the balcony, but he doesn't want to stand on the balcony. He wants outside, properly outside, grass on his feet. 

There's a green nearby, a little patch of park in the middle of city streets. 

Phil's sigh lingers behind him as Dan disappears down the stairs. He grabs a t-shirt, black so it won't matter when it's soaked through, and a pair of joggers. Shoes - yeah, but a pair he knows he won't want to wear again for a while. No socks, because his feet can handle a bit of squish. 

"You're not going out alone," Phil says, already waiting at the door. 

He looks like a man who doesn't want to be baby-sitting his boyfriend's unsteady whims, but the fact that he's got his keys in his hand and his rain jacket on makes Dan's heart do funny Phil-specific things. 

He’s lucky. Maybe. Just a bit. 

They don't talk on the way down. Dan paces through four floors down and when the he hears the ding he can't even stop his foot from impatiently tapping until the door opens. 

They're soaked the minute they step foot out the door. Phil tries valiantly to pull his coat more tightly around himself, but the wind whips sharply and the rain is a heavy downpour. 

"Where are we going?" Phil half-shouts. 

"Park," Dan shouts back, then reaches out and grabs Phil's hand. "Run!" 

They don't actually run, so much as jog together. They have to cross over once and the rain water is a steady stream in the gutter. There's no way around, only through - so Dan smacks his feet down hard into the puddle. 

He can hear Phil yelp behind him, no doubt in the splash zone. He grins and wishes he could back up and do it again. Some kind of shell that's been covering him all day long is cracking open. He feels like he can breathe again, like he can feel again. 

What he feels is cold, and wet, and wonderful. He nods hello to a red ribbon on the ground, probably once tied neatly to a store sign or a street light. 

The park is only one more block down. Phil runs for cover under a tree, but the second his feet touch grass Dan stops walking. He leans down and takes his shoes off completely, then takes measured steps to where Phil stands, looking concerned. 

Dan drops his shoes by Phil. "I'm fine," he says, then lifts his head up to the sky. The rain hits his face so hard it almost hurts, dripping down his cheeks and chin, into his mouth and up his nose. He's soaked, sopping through everything he's wearing. 

He reaches out and grabs Phil, hauling him in for a kiss. Phil lets him get away with it, but only briefly. Dan leans in enough for his mouth to touch Phil's ear. "I'm not crazy," he says. "I promise." 

Phil grins and mouths, 'Yes, you are." 

Dan kisses him again. No one's around. No one else would be out in this weather. Even the taxis driving by in the distance seem fewer in numbers than on a normal day when the heavens haven't opened up above them. 

"I was bored," Dan says. He creeps his fingers into the pockets of Phil's jeans and tugs him close, closer, the closest they can be. "I needed to get out." 

"You need your head examined." Phil reaches up and pushes his fingers through the curls plastered to Dan's head. 

"So examine it for me later." Dan gives him another smacking kiss, then steps back. He takes in another breath, listens to a crack of thunder. His toes clench against the grass. He feels the weight of soggy cloth against his thighs and halfheartedly clinging to his ass. 

And then with a suddenness, he's done. It's been barely fifteen minutes since they stepped foot out of their front door, but he feels like the human part of him just clicked back into place. No more dissociation; now the rain is cold and his clothes are uncomfortable and he wants a cup of warm tea. He wants Phil to be done working, he wants to watch something that will rot his brain and be inside away from all of this. 

He probably does need his head examined. He looks at Phil and finds the warmth again, just in the fact that Phil is wet and shaking and miserable and very clearly going to stick this out as long as Dan needs him to. 

Dan slides his feet back into his shoes and says to Phil, "We can go home now."


End file.
